


Teeth

by tomurai



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Depression, Mental Health Issues, POV Third Person Limited, Pre-Canon to Canon, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Suicide as a major theme, not really angst, somewhat graphic description of suicide attempt and self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-26 00:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12047838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomurai/pseuds/tomurai
Summary: There is a detective who might want to die. There is a murderer. There is something else.





	1. none of your cuts go very straight

**Author's Note:**

> i've gotten back into death note so...blatantly self-indulgent mental illness/suicide fic (with eventual L/light). title from same logic/teeth by brand new. 
> 
> most of L's issues come from personal experience. this is not a hurt/comfort fic. 
> 
> chapter warnings: somewhat graphic description of a suicide attempt with very little aftermath; this chapter can probably be skipped.

He attempts suicide in a hotel whose name he can’t remember. He gets blood on his clothes and the floor and wonders at how melodramatic this all is. The great detective L could disappear so even Watari could not find him, leaving behind a mystery for future successors to solve, but instead he shreds his arms on the floor of a bright-white hotel bathroom. 

The blood comes out slowly, drip-drip-dripping from L’s arms to the ground. He’s never seen something like this before, just the scenes after, and he’s almost mesmerized by the slow dying of it, even as he waits for it to end. There are things he could have done to speed it up, he knows, but he was so caught up in the act of carefully (recklessly) methodically ripping open wounds from his wrist past his elbow that he hadn’t even given it a thought. 

L expects he has a 95% chance of dying if no one finds him within an hour or two of his losing consciousness. His accounts are in order, as they always are, since he must always be prepared to die at any time. The case he was here for has been solved already. 

He does not want to think about his successors, but he is aware that they are there. They exist for this purpose. 

It takes him long enough to pass out that he gets cold from the tiled floor, and experiences some rather interesting psychological effects that he would be intrigued by, were he not doing...this. He grows light-headed and the pleasant-pain of the wounds on his arms fades to a blurry sensation; there is a slight buzzing in his ears and he briefly hallucinates people he knows are not there. It is much less disturbing than the hallucinations he’s had in the past. 

L does not want to die for the same reasons that he does. When he first saw the lines crisscrossing A’s skin he was jealous and confused, and after observing his successors for some time had turned to Wammy for the answer of what they were from. 

He is used to death. 

L fades out of reality after an indeterminate amount of time. He feels calm. 

He is somewhat sure that Watari is the one who finds him then, from the way the man’s face tightens just a little when L mentions the incident, later. That’s better than an employee, at least – Wammy is much less likely to be traumatized, and he is much better at keeping things quiet. 

Presumably, Watari takes him to a hospital, although there is a chance he chose to stitch L up himself. There is little evidence for one or the other, and L has never allowed himself to search for the records (male patient, aged late teens to early twenties, admitted for suicide attempt and blood loss between the dates of ninth to tenth August, nineteen ninety-eight. follow-up psychological treatment recommended), even during his worse moments. Watari would disapprove. 

Instead of dying, L wakes up in another colorless impersonal room. It takes him two tries to surface from the medicine meant to hold him under, which is to be expected but still mildly disappointing. It takes him a minute to realize he should be dead. It takes him less to know that he is not in a hospital. 

He does not feel much of anything besides the disappointment, looking at the soft bed he is laying in and his arms, wrapped in careful bandages. There is no blood staining them or himself. 

He stares blankly until he has the motivation to sit up, and then he closes his eyes and thinks. He is not dead. He is not in a hospital. What does he do now?

Watari enters the room in anywhere from ten minutes to an hour. The floor muffles his shoes, but L has spent many many hours listening to Quillsh Wammy walk. 

He looks at L and his expression says nothing. L flexes a hand, and then tries the other. He feels a slight pulling that he is aware would be pain, without the medication. 

Wammy clears his throat. He pauses a moment, before speaking. “There was no permanent damage to either of your arms’ motor capacities. Your bandages will be changed regularly; I will remove them in six to eight weeks. Do not scratch at them.”

“Thank you, Watari,” says L. 

Watari does not smile, but his face looks softer. He dips his head in what is as much an ‘I’m not disappointed’ as it is a ‘you’re welcome,’ and he leaves the room with the same muffled footsteps. 

L stares at the wall instead of his arms, and comes to the conclusion that it is very likely he will try again. He resolves not to tell Watari and recites every other element of the periodic table until he is able to make himself sleep. 

He goes back to work as soon as he is permitted. The cases are easy, and he picks at his bandages.


	2. if you don't know where you belong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long. i'm aiming for weekly updates but who knows tbh. 
> 
> i should mention this is pre-canon for now; five years prior to the start of death note canon (or more, re: anime timeline; im playing pretty fast and loose w both). beyond and A are both still alive and at wammy's. 
> 
> chapter warnings: suicidal ideation, minor intrusive thoughts, three paragraphs about scars because i can't help myself
> 
> (also, lack of REM sleep can help with depression; it's still unhealthy to avoid it though, and the body tries to catch up once you sleep again (...unless you're L))

Watari takes the bandages off early, perhaps as a reward for not scratching underneath them. L has felt uneasy the whole time he was wearing them, but it still feels a little bit unnatural to not have the extra layer underneath his sleeves. 

The scars left behind are just a bit paler than his skin. The wounds he gave himself haven’t healed badly, and though they’re still somewhat noticeable they aren’t uncomfortable or difficult to hide beneath his usual shirts. 

Although there’s little concern about them being seen by the law enforcement agents L works with, it’s still reassuring how easy to conceal the scars really are. 

Watari suggests cases to him, and he solves them without error. He doesn’t feel much difference between how he is now and how he was before. Maybe, as L, he should have known what to expect. Maybe, as L, he shouldn’t have failed. 

A serial killer has reemerged, twelve years after their last murder. The police confirmed that the killer now is most likely not a copycat before requesting L’s help, but he checks their deductions carefully beforehand. The police cannot be trusted to be always right. 

Watari has been watching L more carefully, now. He isn’t sure when he’ll try again. He isn’t sure how he will, or how long he’ll wait. 

The case is easy, although it does necessitate traveling to speak with the authorities. L eats three slices of sweet cake on the private flight, and makes himself focus on the case. The traces left behind are more likely purposeful than accidental, which means the culprit has some knowledge of police procedure… 

He falls asleep for an hour, just long enough to reach REM sleep. He dreams about dying and wakes with the nails of his right hand digging into the scars on his other wrist. 

They land in another hour, one L spends thinking as strongly as he can. Logically, he needs some sleep to function, but there’s a reason he doesn’t usually for more than sixty minutes at a time – lack of REM sleep has its benefits to health, and L requires only minimal sleep to function at his best level. 

Disembarking follows the same familiar procedure he’s used to. He doesn’t get much attention in airports; it’s good for security, and in some ways it’s reassuring. 

Watari drives them to a hotel. It’s mid-quality, and the walls of his room are a pale pink. The curtains are drawn over the windows, and L drags the blanket off of the bed and sits in front of his laptop with it draped over and around him. 

He types his notes on the case into a text document and checks three prominent news sites for anything interesting. There’s nothing much. 

He runs his fingers up and down the scars on his wrists, staring at his notes. This is...boring. _Why not hurt yourself_ , says his brain, but he ignores it. He wants cake, something sugary-sweet enough to provide a distraction. Instead he buries himself in the blanket and thinks about blood.


End file.
